#last night was the worst panic attack ive had in a year

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x fem! reader [vol i, vol ii, vol iii, vol iv]

⚠️trigger warnings: mentions of a exual assault, accusations, mentions of domestic abuse, teenage drinking, panic attacks etc

w/c: 7.9k

a/n: s/o to all my favorite people helping me continuously with this series! @agentmarvel @sweetsweetjellybean @jo-harrington !! 💋💋💋💋💋

You’re spinning, spinning, spinning. If you couldn’t smell your own hair products on your pillow, you would swear that you were in a dystopian world, twirling like a frisbee through a pink blossomed sky and being caught in a three headed cat's mouth.

It’s true, hangovers get worse with age, but you were only twenty one��� and they’re supposed to go up from here? What happened to ‘the best years of your life’? Whoever said that should be shot and killed on site. Stupid bastard.

Opening your eyes seems like the worst idea you could do, so you don’t. You slowly let your other senses bring you back to reality. You recognized that you were in your bed. Something soft is wrapped around you and judging by the feel of the fabric between your fingers it’s your robe.

A pungent smell of sour bile presents on your breath, one whiff of it and it’s instantaneous: vomit.

Fuck, that would explain the burning in your throat and the graveling dry sensation in your mouth

Pieces of the puzzle that was last night start fitting into place in your mind.

The drinks. The shots. The food. The clinking sound of ice in Steve’s Bloody Mary as he tipped it back and the ice swam towards his teeth, is like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh Christ how there had been so many drinks. Damn Robin and her mischievous ideas for wanting to do shots. Memories of the fiery tingle of the top shelf vodka Steve insisted on having, hitting your lips is enough to make you pass out.

The hollow feeling in your stomach gets queasy as you remember the greasy bar food served at Louie’s. Your stomach quenches, clutching around itself, ridding its salmon colored lining of the disastrous evening.

But nothing comes up. Just heaving dryly in your bed as tears escape your eyelids and your feet hit the floor. Throwing your body into a whirlwind of dizzy flips— your brain swimming in a sea of Diet Coke and Malibu, membranes bursting with the carbonated bubbles.

You’ve never needed a toothbrush more than you do right at this very second. You stand and the world feels like its raging war on your head. Pulsing and throbbing, like a concert was playing in your head and the guitar solo never ended.

You open your door and are met with the thought of how the fuck did you get here last night? Fuck it, you’d ask questions later, for now you needed to empty your bladder and brush your teeth.

As soon as you lay a hand on the bathroom door, Eddie emerges from his bedroom. Sweatpants are riding dangerously low on his hips and purpling hickies decorate his neck. He’s rubbing his eyes but when he catches sight of you he smiles lazily.

“Holy hell,” Eddie quips, eyes scanning over your body. You robe is hanging loosely off one shoulder, it’s crooked but the tie is in place covering your lower half. They land on the wild mess of hair atop your head, “normally I’d say good morning but it’s—“ he leans back into his room to look at his alarm clock, chuckling at the realization, “—two in the afternoon.”

You don’t fight Eddie for the shower, too tired and weak to argue. You fumble through the medicine cabinet finding the ibuprofen and the Disney cup with the swirly straw on the sink, filling it and taking the slick coated medicine. Swallowing harshly, your throat still raw and aching.

You settle for brushing your teeth while Eddie is in the shower. He’s singing Teen Spirit and getting louder and louder. The circles of the vigorous brushing of your teeth mixed with Eddie’s singing are making your head pound. A long look in the mirror leaves you suddenly feeling embarrassed, as if you needed to look drop dead gorgeous at every single minute you’re around him.

What the hell is going on?

“Please,” you beg, spitting the last bit of toothpaste into the sink, “for the love of everything holy— stop.”

The screeching noise of the shower curtain rings being pulled back pull your head up as you see Eddie half naked, torso covered in soap and your loofah in his hand, the dripping curls on his head turned to long waves with the weight of the water.

“Don’t act like I don’t sing like an angel, sweetheart,” he says with a wink, “besides, lying is not good for your health.”

The suds are traveling south, further and further and further downward, your eye fixated on one particular bubble as it pops right at his belly button.

You train your eyes on his, your cheeks heat from your staring. You reach up and shut the curtain.

“I wasn’t saying you sound bad—I just feel like my head is going to implode.”

Eddie thinks for a minute, “want me to sing you a lullaby? I’d put your baby ass to sleep just like I did last night.”

A million different scenarios flood your mind of what happened last night.

Did you kiss him? You remembering staring at his lips, the soft pillowy pinks, the way his tongue peak—

Oh fuck.

Are the hickies on his neck from you? His Adam apple bobs as he swallowed.

Shit.

Did you sleep together? Blankets, over your head.

What the fuck?

Where are your pants? You can’t even remember what pants you were wearing.

Where’s your car? Did you drive home?

Did Eddie pick you up from the bar?

Did he see you puke? You faintly remember puking on the floor of the front seat of a vehicle.

Your head continues to spin as you sit on the edge of the closed toilet seat. Suddenly feeling violated and disgusting.

“Tooty?” Eddie’s voice rings out.

This time you’re the one throwing open the curtain. Ignoring him as he shields himself with your loofah and his arm. “Jesus Chr—!“

“How fucking dare you!”

“What?!”

“You fucking pig, how could you do that to me!”

“Do what!” Eddie yells back

Your tossing shampoo bottles and bars of soap at his naked body, he’s surprisingly agile, dodging every one.

“How could you sleep with me when I was that drunk?! Jesus Christ I can’t believe you! Why would you do that to me?!”

Tears well in your eyes, you can’t believe that someone you once trusted, and were getting used to trusting again, after only being able to confide in three people over the last five years, would do something so vile, so fucking awful.

“After everything we’ve been through? I’ve known you since I was a kid Eddie! I get drunk one time and you take it upon yourself to forc— “

“Tooty!” Eddie hollers, turning the water off to the shower and stepping around you out of the way to grab a towel, he wraps it around his waist and turns to face you again.

“I didn’t do anything to you.” His eyes are wild but filled with hurt, he lowers his voice, and backs away from you. “If you don’t believe me, call Harrington. I talked to him after I carried your drunk puking ass to your own bed last night!”

“Then where are my pants?! If you ‘didn’t do anything to me’ where are my pants at?!” Eddie heads into the kitchen and pulls the short overalls you were wearing off the back of a chair, still damp from the wash. He tosses them towards you and they land at your feet.

“I washed them because you barfed all over them and I thought you would appreciate them being cleaned instead of in a vomit covered ball on the bathroom floor!”

Your accusations sting his eyes, and burn his nose.

You blink rapidly and rack your brain, the blurry sight of Steve’s car covered in puke comes into view. You struggling to get your clothes off alone in the bathroom. One? Or maybe two girls yelling at him as his back is turned to you, Eddie’s honey dripped voice talking to you as you throw up into the toilet, cheek nestled against the seat. And finally, the feel of his chest on your cheek as he carries you to your room, arms and hands never touching you inappropriately.

Before you can apologize Eddie is thrusting the cordless phone into your palm, Steve’s voice faintly heard from the speaker. He turns with a huff and not another look towards you as he slams his bedroom door shaking the frame.

-

Shutting your bedroom door, Eddie hangs his head, his forehead and one palm on the door, a small smile gracing his lips. His head is spinning, he’s not drunk, in fact he only had one beer tonight, right before their set started.

What is this feeling inside of him? Butterflies in his stomach? Nah, that shit was juvenile. He could only pray that it was indigestion, nothing a couple gulps from a Pepto Bismol bottle couldn’t fix. But he couldn’t deny it.

The instinctual gut feeling of needing to protect you rang true all day. He was ready to fight everyone and anyone who talked ill of you. He just couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t felt this protective of someone since his own mother. He didn’t even feel this way towards Chrissy, and they dated for almost a year.

He pulls his head from the door, wondering if he should have put you on your side so if you vomited in your sleep you wouldn’t choke. He shakes his head, removing his hand slowly down your door, letting his fingers hang to his side.

What is this? Why is he acting like a parent? He rubs his eyes and turns to go to bed, your wadded up overalls in his peripheral vision. Would it be weird? Him washing your clothes? It’s not like your panties were in here it was just the overalls. He could be a good guy, he could be a decent human being, for you— he’d be it all.

Stomping down the dingy, murky basement steps he quickly throws your overalls into the washing machine, adding way too much powdered Era but figuring it was better than having them stink like puke. Slamming the metal lid closed with a wonky bang, he trots back up the stairs.

Stomach grumbling and realizing the only thing he had to eat all day were the poptarts he packed for work, he opens the fridge. Inside sitting on a shelf is a fading spaghetti stained Tupperware, on the lid is a sticky note, and written in your beautiful loopy handwriting:

“Got off work early and made the Tater tot casserole. Warm it up in the microwave for a minute thirty, hope you had a good show tonight. -T ”

-

You didn’t always love when your clients canceled last minute, it meant money gone from your pocket and an annoying increasing anxiety building in your gut when bills showed up. But today, you could actually enjoy the sun's rays on your shoulders for a bit as you drove down the streets of Hawkins, stopping at Bradleys Big Buys to get a pound of ground beef and a can of cream of mushroom soup.

Pushing the cart through the aisles you found the two items you came for, hoping to make it home early so that you could make the casserole before Eddie played tonight, or maybe he could enjoy it when he got home.

Cooking for someone was a labor of love, the simplest act of kindness anyone could offer. That’s what Karen Wheeler had taught you when she would spend her Saturday’s teaching you and Nancy how to cook good hearty meals that would last a while so you wouldn’t starve in college.

“And someone enjoying the food you cook? Girls, that’s the best feeling in the world.”

She wasn’t lying. Even that first week with the lasagna when Eddie had basically came in his pants with every bite, you felt a skip in your chest.

It was the least you could do after he gave you a sense of calm whenever he was around. You didn’t trust many people. Not after what happened. In fact Nancy, Steve and Robin were the only people you could put any sort of hope in.

After browning the ground beef with an chopped onion and mixing the canned ingredients together, you season the mixture with salt, pepper, and garlic powder. One last wipe around the bowl with your spatula and it was good to go. Spreading the mixture into a greased 9 x 13 inch pan and added shredded cheese, you line the tater tots across in horizontal rows and toss it in the oven, covering the dish with tinfoil.

-

Steve confirms everything that had happened. Even down to the minor details of you calling him ‘Steeb’. You feel stupid. Your stomach sank when he said that Eddie had stayed up all night making sure your overalls were clean and that you weren’t choking on your vomit.

“He’s a good dude, Tooty,” he explains, “he’s a perv and a complete douche most of the time, but he would never in a million years do that to someone, especially you.”

“…I know.”

“But do you?” Steve prods, “you said so yourself that he kinda looked out for you, almost better than your own brother did.”

“He did— but that’s just because I was with Chrissy’s brother and he was dating Chrissy.”

“That doesn’t matter, what does matter is that he’s a good guy— someone trustworthy. Make it right.”

With that Steve hung up.

You sit on the couch, head in your hands, feeling like a big pile of shit for what you did. Eddie wouldn’t understand. How could he? You blatantly accused him of doing something that you know in your heart and in your soul that he never could have done. Tears drop from your eyes and into your palms. You allow yourself to cry, something you hated doing, for a few minutes. Angry with yourself for the wrong that you did, but also hurting from the past. When your eyes were puffy and snot was sliding from your nose, you call it quits. Fanning your face you realize you still haven’t taken a shower yet this morning.

Making your way to the bathroom, you turn your head towards Eddie door, Steve was right, you needed to fix this.

But how?

-

The shower was exactly what you needed. The scald from the water was helping ooze the booze from your pores as your dehydrated body soaked it up. Eddie didn’t deserve your harsh words, your accusatory statements, the way his face fell in horror when you screamed at him was burned into your memories, something you saw whenever your eyes were closed. You sit on the floor of the shower. You couldn’t tell him what was going on, you were stronger than that. You didn’t need his sympathy, his pity parade, you would get through this on your own just like you always had. You may have been wrong and and you should probably apologize but you dismiss the idea. What the hell does Steve Harrington know about it?

Eddie bangs on the door, bringing you back to reality.

“What?” You holler out.

“Hurry up so we can go get your car before you accuse me of stealing that too.” His voice is angry and hurt. Finishing up in the shower you leave the bathroom to see an impatient Eddie huffing around the living room, looking at his empty wrist as if he wore a watch and throwing his hands in the air.

“Christ will you hurry the fuck up? I’ve got places to be.”

“Oh fucking relax,” you pout, slamming your door and toweling off. You settle for a pair of denim shorts and a cotton t-shirt. When you reach for the comb to untangle your hair you hear obnoxious honking.

He wouldn’t.

Eddie is sitting in the van laying on the horn. Grabbing your ratty white keds you fly through the house, grabbing your purse and combing your hair as you fling yourself through the door. The pavement is hot on your feet, an exceptionally warm day for September. The hot sun and humid temperatures are the worst mix for a hangover.

Indian summer in full swing.

“Fuck I’m right here, knock it off!” He’s staring at you with dead eyes, hand planted on the horn until you slide your ass onto the cracked leather seat.

Without another word he throws the van in reverse and reaches a hand over to your headrest twisting his body, the cut off flannel he is wearing isn’t buttoned, the powdery musk of his deodorant burns your nose.

Nothing has changed with the old van, tape decks are still littered across the dash, stumped out in the cup holder are a mountain of cigarettes and joints. Too many pine scented Little Trees hanging from the rearview doing a horrible job of hiding the smell of weed. Judas Priest screams through the speakers. You place a foot on the dash to get your shoe on when suddenly you are lurching forward. Eddie taps the brakes.

“No feet on the dash.”

You set your face in a scowl, words bitter on your tongue, “yeah, cause my shoe is really going to hurt the value of this piece of shit. I’m just putting my fucking shoe on since some asshole with a small dick complex couldn’t wait five minutes.”

A mocking chuckle escapes Eddie’s throat, “you really are such a pleasure to be around, how did I get this lucky?.”

“And you’re such a prick,” you seethe, bending over and tying your shoe, “why did you even answer my ad in the paper? All we do is fight because you fucking hate me.”

He’s had enough, slamming his foot onto the pedal, Eddie turns towards you and spits, “Do you really think of me like that? A predator? Someone who would move in with you just to violate you the second you pass out?”

“No I—“

“All the years you’ve known me, you think I’d just up and turn into a fucking rapist?!”

“Jesus Christ Eddie!“

“No, I wanna know, right now,” he turns to you, eyes angry and filled with hurt, “do you get off on this shit? Treating people like they’re nothing? Automatically assuming the worst about someone because of where they grew up? I’m not like that Tooty, I’m not like my—“ he stops himself, pushing his tongue to his cheek, “you are not the girl I knew. I don’t even fucking recognize you.”

“The girl you knew was fourteen, Eddie! My biggest problem back then was wondering who I could convince to buy Boonesfarm for the weekend rager, shit changed. I changed! I had to adapt to shit that was way out of my control. And you don’t even know half of it!”

“You’re right, I don’t and I bet if I were to ask, you wouldn’t even tell me, so fuck it, where am I going?”

“What?”

“I can’t read your mind, where is your car parked?”

You tell him. And as soon as you pull alongside Louie’s and beside your car, you realize you don’t have the keys.

“Open the door. Get out.” Eddie spits in a condescending tone.

Looking at him and smiling, with an extra side of cunt you sing, “I don’t have my keys.”

“Of fucking course.”

Lighting up a cigarette and cranking the wheel Eddie flies through Hawkins. He misses the turn on Kerley to get back home. “Missed the turn,” you announce, putting your other shoe on.

Eddie takes a deep breath and sighs lips tight in a line and exhaling through his nose. “Groceries.” He says through gritted teeth.

Pulling into the grocery store parking lot, Eddie parks, taking up for spots, a tire in each one, before the van even stops moving he’s already out and slamming the door, flicking his cigarette across the parking lot. The heat of the day already high.

Finishing lacing up your other shoe you run across the parking lot to catch up to him. He already has a cart and is whizzing through the aisles before you finally see him. Reaching into your purse you unfold the list and take a look at it.

Dunakaroos

Twizzlers

Gobstoppers

Spaghetti o’s

Bologna

Mayo— NOT MIRACLE WHIP! And no it’s not for that.

Lotion, yes for that 😉

the soft bread, not the brown one.

Carton of reds

Case of Busch Light.

Sunny D

Red kool aid

Hot dogs

Cocoa Puffs

Sliced cheese

Baby food since you think I’m a child (just kidding, don’t be mad)

whatever chips you got with that salsa the one time

My milk— not that skim shit you drink

Your milk— the skim shit

Mac n Cheese

“What kind of a fucking list is this? Most of this shit is snacks.”

“Oh for fucks sake, what are you pissed about now?” Eddie says, dumping two bags of marshmallows into the cart.

You’ve never met a twenty-six year old that ate like he was dining at Willy Wonka’s Factory every night.

“Not a single fruit or vegetable!” You say, waving the list in his face.

“I smoke green, I don’t eat it. Unless you wanna make some pot brownies, I’d eat the shit out of those.” He throws a box of brownie mix into the cart for good measure.

You yank the cart from his hands and turn around, heading back to the produce aisle. He huffs when you place a paper bag of apples neatly in the cart, whines when the bananas sit by your purse, and almost passed out when the tomatoes and a head of lettuce make their way into the cart.

“You’re such a baby! Literally an overgrown man child in the flesh.” He’s walking in front of you mimicking you and whoops! The cart may have slipped out of your hands and made a fleeting dash towards his Achilles tendon, banging against.

“Ouch, Jesus Christ!” Eddie groans under his breath, holding his leg he glares towards you, shooting daggers.

“It slipped,” you smirk.

He scoffs and turns on his heel walking away. You finish in the produce aisle, looking through the boxes of noodles and calculating what you could make for dinner this week. Eddie comes back arms full, you only see his hair sticking out on each side of the three boxes of cereal, a 10 lb ham and seven tubes of cinnamon rolls. He drops them all into the cart with a heavy thud.

After crossing everything off the list and getting a few more things despite Eddie’s protesting exhales, you have a cart full. He seems to have calmed down by the time you make it to the beer fridge, taking two thirty packs of Busch Light and putting them on the bottom of the cart, he rips the side of one of them open and takes a can out. Cracking it open in the middle of the store, downing it. The light colored lager is spilling down his chin, into the collar of his open shirt. He tosses it into a lady’s cart as she’s walking past, wiping the foam from his lips and belching loudly.

You roll your eyes, “You can’t wait until we’re home?”

“What?” He says, looking at you with a stupid grin, “I’m gonna pay for it.”

Waiting in the checkout aisle he cracks another one as he unloads the groceries onto the conveyor belt with one hand. Tossing most of the items onto the belt and grabbing another beer and chugging it. The checkout lady puts her nose in the air and huffs a disapproving grunt.

“I was thirsty.”

“You’re so imp—” your insult is cut short when your eyes sweep over him.

It had been a full two years since you had seen him last. His blonde hair was combed to the side like it always was. The blue of his icy eyes still burned holes through you like dry ice to the exposed skin. The navy blue suit jacket and white Oxford shirt with a red patterned tie and the tan khakis he was wearing suggested he was coming from a late Sunday brunch after church. Awful crippling memories of spending hours ironing those pants to make sure the creases were perfect cloud your memory, you unconsciously hold the two fingers on your left hand, the ones that held misshaped triangle burn scars.

You don’t realize that Eddie is talking or that you’ve stopped moving until the shape of his curly head shakes in front of you. Your breath is hitched in your chest, you feel small. Physically and mentally.

Two years without seeing the face that was the sole purpose of most of the fear in your life. Two years without seeing the demon grin and crazy twitch in his eye. You were frozen in place and your blood ran cold.

It was evil in its truest form. Standing in the checkout behind you— stood Chad Cunningham.

Eddie couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on. Putting the grocery sacks in the cart, he turns to look in your line of vision. He doesn’t recognize him at first. But the strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes ran in the Cunningham blood. He was with a woman, who was so obviously pregnant she seemed like she was about to burst. Judging from the horrific way your eyes were bulged out of your head and the way your body was almost catatonic, Eddie figured it was time to get the fuck out of here. Reaching in his pocket for his wallet he paid the cashier and impatiently waited for the change, keeping his eyes on you.

You were trembling with fear. Not from the sudden run in with an ex but something much deeper than that. Eddie places his hands on your shoulders and looks into your eyes, “let’s go sweetheart,” he whispers gently, he crowds behind you and puts a small hand on your back, guiding you forward towards the automatic doors. Eddie keeps his head on a swivel for Chad.

The woman who was with him was waddling towards the bathroom, his eyes never leaving your body. As soon as she was out of ear shot, Chad puffed out his chest and said, “Lookin’ good honey bun, I will say though, the downgrade,” he points to Eddie, “..yikes.”

The nickname made your skin crawl. You never liked it, and he knew that. He only said it to get a rise out of you, which was successful. “See you soon,” he gloated, smiling with perfectly straight teeth, eyes never meeting his smile.

You don’t make it five feet outside before the shock wears off and the tears stream down your face in salty waves. Eddie takes control of the cart with his left hand and ushers you forward with his right, minimal pressure on the small of your back as he keeps his head on a swivel, dark curtain of curls crowding his eyes as he moves his head around.

Unlocking the doors he helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and saying he’d be back in thirty seconds. The back doors of the van fly open as Eddie all but tosses the groceries into the back. At thirty seconds exactly, Eddie is back in the van, starting it and roaring out of the parking lot.

He still didn’t know what happened with Chad, but it wouldn’t take an absolute idiot to know that it was bad. Really fucking bad. He looks over to you and your head is stuffed into your shirt, your knees under your chin and you’re rocking back and forth on the seat.

“Five minutes, Tooty— we’ll be home in less than five minutes, okay?” Eddie says, frantically. He’s trying to stay calm. Trying to be the voice of reason, composed and serene. But he is horrified. Scared to death at how you responded to seeing Chad. How your body froze up and your face looked as if you weren’t breathing. Even now, hearing you gasp for air as your body shook and swayed with each turn he made. He slams on the gas, pausing slightly at stop signs and ignoring any yield signs.

He parks in the driveway, coming around to help you out of the van. Just like he did last night, he carries you, only this time you remember it. Your body is shaking violently, chest racked with sobs. His chest is wet with tears from your face being buried into it. He’s whispering to you that everything will be okay. Opening the door he kicks it shut with his boot. He brings you into your room and sits you on your bed, you’re cradled in his lap, like a parent would hold a child. He caresses your head, holding you closer to him. His warm breath in your hair grounds you. You feel him lean forward grabbing on your nightstand for something, the phone.

He dials the number without even thinking. Waiting impatiently on the other end as a familiar voice answers.

“Hello?” Steve breathes boredly into the phone.

Eddie sighs with relief, “Harrington, it’s me.”

“Oh God, listen dude I don’t know what to te—“

“Shut up, Steve.” Eddie interrupts, “listen—something, happened.”

Steve almost chokes on his popcorn, frantically firing off questions. “What? What’s going on? Is she okay? Are you okay?”

“Ye—no, I mean—“ Eddie is stuttering and trying to explain, “we ran into Chad at the gro—“

“I’m on my way!”

The line goes dead and Eddie hears dial tone. He sets the phone back in the holder and wraps a blanket around you. Your heart is racing and you can’t even form words. You haven’t had a panic attack in over a year. It feels like the world is crashing in on you, the walls are tight and shrinking, the whole room feels smaller by the minute. Eddie’s voice is gentle and soothing, like a warm cup of coffee on a cold winter morning.

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” He murmurs, “try to match your breathing with mine.” He remembers what he was taught as a kid. His emotions always ran high and Wayne would have to settle him down, get him to take deep breaths.

He’s rubbing soft circles into your back. Rocking you back and forth. You try to speak but all that comes out are gasps and the whirling noise of sharp intake of breath.

Steve and Robin make it to the house in record time, running to your room and taking everything in. Your disheveled appearance brings Steve to his knees in front of Eddie. Grabbing your hand and squeezing letting you know it was going to be okay.

You slide off Eddie’s lap and lay on the bed, curled in a ball. Robin lays beside you. Brushing your hair from your face with her fingers.

Steve pulls Eddie out of your room with great force he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t know how to help.

“I’m sorry— fuck man, I’m sorry for calling you — I just— she just locked up. She couldn’t talk, she couldn’t move!” He runs his hands down his face, trying to will the tears away. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, give yourself a break, you got her home, she’s safe,” Steve says patting Eddie on the back, “so explain what happened.”

Eddie begins explaining from when you both got to the grocery store. He goes into detail how distraught you seemed, how your body was rigid and full of fear. The burn of tears threatening to spill from his eyes has him blinking quick before they fall. Steve listens intently, face warped with shock and disbelief.

Throwing his head back and running his hands down his face Steve lets out a loud exhale and throws his hands on his hips, “fuck I hate that guy.”

“Yeah he seems like a fucking psycho,” Eddie agrees, “but what the fuck is going on?! I mean yeah they dated but, I don’t stiff up like that when I run into Chrissy or Trish.”

A shiver runs down his spine as he thinks of how upset you were, your body crumbling with fear the minute you made it into the van. Anxiety trickling through your body like electricity to a wire. He hated to admit it but he was scared for you.

Remembering the groceries in the back of the van, the two guys brave the sweltering heat to retrieve them. Eddie starts to put the items away, Steve rolls his eyes watching him put the canned items in the small cabinet designed for spices, the endless snacks he purchased thrown on the counter nestled up against the flour canister and slamming the lettuce into the fridge like a bowling ball.

Eddie could give a rats ass where the things went, he was worried and getting a headache from wondering if you were going to be okay. Half thinking he should find where good ol Chad lived and pay him a nice little visit. Only three tires slashed and the insurance won’t cover it.

Throwing the groceries sacks in the garbage and making his way to the living room, sitting down on the couch, he sits with his elbows on his knees, bouncing them in quick repetitions. “So are you gonna tell me what’s going on or should I put a paper fortune teller on my fingers and we can decide what’s wrong with Tooty with the help of crayola markers?”

The wailing cries and sobs have dissipated in the last half hour, only Robin’s soothing words can be heard now.

“Dude, it’s not my place to say,” Steve says, “it’s one thing to tell you about her parents and Kevin, but this—“ he takes another deep breath, running his hands through his thick tufts of hair, “this is 100 times worse than that,” Steve explains lowering his head.

“…But you’re right, you’re her roommate and you should know what happened.”

Eddie nods his head slowly, silently agreeing with everything Steve had said. Standing quickly and pacing around the living room, his mind is running a million miles a minute. The fight you two had didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered to him in this moment— the only thing on his mind for the past twelve hours— was you.

Steve stands and runs his fingers through his hair, placing his hands on the waist of the old fading green gym shorts he was wearing. “I’m gonna go talk to her, and when you guys are done, I’m gonna make you guys something to eat. I’m sure you idiots haven’t eaten today given the timing of when shit hit the fan.”

Eddie nods again, biting the fingernails on his right hand until they bled, a habit he hadn’t done since he was a teen, facing possible jail time for destructing private property when he spray painted, “Your mom swallowed EM’s monster cock” on the front doors of Hawkins High. He was pacing, itching for a cigarette. Pulling the pack from his flannel breast pocket he goes outside and sits on the concrete steps, lighting up.

Three squashed cigarette butts sit next to him on the step before Steve finds him. Eddie stands and stubs the cigarette out blowing smoke out of the crooked twist of his lips away from Steve’s face. The nicotine helped take the edge off but he was still anxious, fidgeting his rings.

“H-how is she?” Eddie asks apprehensively, “can I talk to her?”

“She’s better, taking deep breaths and relaxing as best as he can, she’s gonna explain everything, just give her space— let her talk and don’t ask anything until she’s finished.”

“Yeah, ‘f course.”

“Alright. Robin is gonna help me make supper,” Steve says holding opening the front door, face in a grimace he jokes, “wish me luck.”

Eddie was the one who thought he himself needed the luck, he was scared shitless that you were afraid of him.

He walks gently to your room and knocks softly on the door with one knuckle, palm facing him. He remembers just hours ago how he was standing at this very door, and how very different he felt then.

“Come in,” Robin chirps.

Eddie takes a quick breath holding it as he steps foot into your room. You’re sitting on your bed cross legged, blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes are red rimmed and tissues surrounding you, a cemetery of drying tears. You look at him and muster a smile, a twitch of your lips raising at the corners.

“Well, I’m needed as a sous chef in kitchen a la Harrington,” Robin says brightly, standing from the bed and skipping towards the door. When she passes Eddie she touches his arm squeezing and giving him a reassuring nod.

Eddie stands with his hands stuffed in his pockets as the door clicks shut. You both don’t say anything for a while, you’re twirling the end of the pillowcase in your lap and he’s burning holes with his eyes into the carpet.

“I’m really sorry, Eddie,” you say quietly, “I’m—“ your voice catches in your throat, sore from the the wailing, “I’m hoping that when I’m done telling you, you’ll be able to understand..”

He nods and leans against the wall. Hands wrapped around his triceps.

“Before I explain— I just need you to know that only Robin, Steve, Nancy, and her parents know about this— not my parents, or Kev or anyone else— and now you.

Eddie’s face is full of concern, he whispers an “okay,” and you continue.

“I can’t remember but I’m pretty sure that you and Chrissy started dating around the same time that Chad and I did, and as you remember I’m sure, Chad and I were together almost all the time. When you graduated, and my sophomore year was the year my parents moved away— things changed with him. He was suddenly callous about everything, needing control of who I was with and when. Mostly he was pissed that I was staying with the Wheeler’s. He always thought I was cheating on him with Mike.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, the Mike Wheeler he knew wouldn’t know what to do if a chick laid butt naked in his bed. Probably piss himself.

You work the corner of the pillow case in your fingers as you keep going, “The first time he hit me was on a night that I told him I couldn’t hang out because Mrs. Wheeler wanted everyone home for supper. He called me a slut and told me that I should just go and fuck Mike already even though he knew I wasn’t.”

Eddie’s eyes flicker with anger when you admit that Chad hit you, his fists clenched together tightly. With your head down and looking away from him you continue, your voice wobbly.

“We didn’t even have sex yet, at that time, I wasn’t ready. After he hit me, I thought we should break up. He followed me around, begging me to take him back and like the naive kid that I was, I did. He would be sweet for a few weeks, and then it was like a flip would switch and he’d back hand me for giving Lucas a pencil during History, pulled my hair out in chunks when Mike brought me to school, he even choked me until I passed out when Dustin sat next to me at lunch. He was extremely jealous of everyone around him, and couldn’t handle seeing anyone he didn’t ‘approve of’ be near me. He hated that I worked at Family Video, he would show up almost every shift and wait in the store for me to clock out, even threatening to kick Steve’s ass on more than one occasion. He finally gave up on that when I told him Steve was dating Robin, just so I could go to work in peace.”

Eddie’s gut is rolling, the anger boiling in his blood, his nostrils are flared, it is taking everything in him to not react the way he wants to, a simple trailer park style beating to Chad’s car, his face, whatever would hurt the little prick more. Heads would fucking roll if Eddie ever got ahold of him.

“It didn’t end there. Like I said, we weren’t having sex because I wasn’t ready, I had enough shit going on with my parents up and leaving and buying all the concealer that Melvald’s carried to cover up the bruises.”

You take a shaky breath, fighting back tears for as long as you could. Chewing the inside of your lip and un crossing your legs, bringing your knees to your chest you continue.

“Af—After prom our junior year, we were driving around and he was drinking, I just wanted to go home but he didn’t. He parked way outside of town on the south side, on some dead end road… I mouthed off to him about how cliche it was to lose our virginities on prom night and the next thing I knew,” your voice pitches to a high volume, your lips are tight as you remember the pain you felt in your head from him knocking you out, the way his hands were groping your body, “I was waking up to him on top of me, and inside of me.”

The dam breaks, the tears fall from your eyes like rain in the spring time. You throw your head back against your headboard and sniff loudly, your palms pressed to your eyes.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do, he’s afraid if he tried to comfort you it would only cause you more pain. Against his better judgment he stands and walks towards the bed, scooting across the lavender bedspread he sits across from you, reaching for your ankle and tenderly squeezing it, letting you know that he was there.

“I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life then when I was dating him,” you sniffle and reach for the tissues, blowing your nose loudly, “Eddie, this went on for years, it didn’t fucking stop. After senior year, he didn’t want me to go to college, because I would be too far away from him, and we argued and he kicked me out on the opposite side of town with two swelling black eyes. By the time I made it back to the Wheeler’s, my eyes were almost shut. That night, I told Ted and a very hysterical, Karen everything, and they called the cops. Of course, Tim Cunningham was the state prosecutor at the time, so it didn’t go far— Hop did what he could but there was never any judgment made against Chad, and everything was over after that.”

“I went to beauty school with Nance, and when we moved back home, I was living in the little apartments off of Sawmill Road, he found out where I was and broke in, luckily Steve and Robin were my neighbors so they heard everything and came running before he could hurt me.

“After that.. Ted and Karen bought this place for Nancy and I and last year I saved up enough and bought it from them. Last I heard, Chad had moved to Indianapolis and was working for his uncle at the law firm until he finished school. I haven’t seen him in over two years— anyway,” you finish, wiping your eyes, and blowing your nose once more, “that’s the story.”

Eddie doesn’t know where to begin, he partially is taking the blame for what happened to you, knowing that if he were there, if he had stuck it out with Chrissy maybe he could have seen the signs, maybe he could have stopped it before it ever started, maybe he could have put that little fucker in his place and made him think twice about ever touching you again. He’s full of regret, full of shame and turmoil as he thinks about how you must have been feeling this morning.

“Oh, Tooty.” Eddie starts his eyes glistening with wetness, heart aching for you, “I’m so sorry, Jesus Christ, I— I don’t even… Fuck! I should have been around.”

“There wasn’t anything anyone could have done— he’s a lunatic.” You take a breath and look down at his hand on your ankle, abandoning the thought of reaching for it at the last minute, “I know you would never do something to hurt me, or anyone— I’m sorry about last night Eddie. I just, I don’t ever get drunk enough to not remember what happened. Not after the shit I’ve been through. ” You fold your arms into your self, wrapping around your ribs, in a small voice you whisper, “and today when I couldn’t remember, I was fucking terrified—going right back to how I felt that night when I was sixteen.”

In the van today, he fully intended on chewing you out, making you feel about three inches tall. He had been accused of many different things during his teenage years. Hell he even spent a night or two in jail after fighting a guy in Indianapolis when he threw a beer at Gareth. But one thing Wayne taught him was to respect women. Sure he wasn’t the average guy, his lever leaned a little further towards pervert than most. But he would never hurt a woman. The way you looked right now scared him. Like you were afraid to be near him. Unsure if he would scream at you or worse. And it broke his heart.

“Sweetheart,” he says, leaning forward, finger dipping under your chin and tilting your head up so you were looking right at him. A fresh brim of tears clung to your lashes, “as long as I’m here, being the thorn in your side, pain in the ass, good looking mother fucker that I am— you don’t ever have to be scared again.”

You shutter, body exhausted and giving in, letting the tears fall.

“Promise?”

Your doe eyes are wet and staring into his, the swirling chocolate of his eyes, melted as he looks into your soul. Shedding any walls around his heart, baring himself of his discretions, his eyes are deeper than the galaxy. You swear you’ve never seen anything prettier in your life. You can feel your frigid heart thawing for the first time in years.

“Always.”

You never thought a single word could have so much meaning, a sense of security washed over you with Eddie’s promising word. A silent devotion from his eyes of keeping you safe and out of harm's way. You felt your soul open up to him. A higher power bringing you closer to him. You reach down and grab his hand. Rubbing the rough knuckles and tracing the rings on his fingers. An angel’s smile dances on Eddie’s lips. He decides right there, in that moment, that he would be whatever you needed. For as long as you needed him. Because he needed you.

///

///

SEE YOU IN VOLUME VI

a/n: hope you enjoyed this, it was a little rough but the next chapter is pure fluff 💋

[beesmygod]

do you mind talking about what made effexor so bad for you? also where can I read about this streamer fake death lol

all the stuff on thedarkid is on SA in the sagas thread lol. i would prefer not to post a link bc the quality of new posters is at an all time low on that website and i dont want to contribute to the problem.

AS FOR EFFEXOR: i am prefacing this with the fact that this is my personal experience as a result of my body chemistry. effexor might work for some people with different body chemistry. my suggestion would be to try everything else first before resorting to this one and to be ready to feel really, really bad when discontinuing it.

i got off effexor because the negatives of taking it finally outweighed the positives and the problem i had been taking it for was no longer relevant. this will make me sound ridiculous so keep in mind i took crazy meds for this exact problem, but after we bought and moved into the house, i started having nightly panic attacks and weeping fits over both the decadence of my new non-renter lifestyle (which was materially going to impact the quality of my work and how i viewed reality) and the fact that i had taken a really big step toward commitment without having resolved the source of my deep social anxiety. i could realize how i was behaving and reacting was not normal and until i could get a therapist to address it, i was going to have to put a bandaid on it.

effexor flattened my emotions and my affect lol. this is really, really good for when you cannot reach a baseline of normality. this became bad when that flatness turned into apathy and started sliding into my day to day life. doing basic household chores became a daily struggle. then i started not making my deadlines on time because i completely lost the will to draw, which actively began to terrify me. and then once i started struggling to bathe and brush my teeth i was like "okay. something is really really wrong". so then i started the process of getting off.

that's the broad overview. i did not realize the extent of the damage it was causing me until i started getting it out of my system:

my sleep schedule was destroyed bc it gave me terrible insomnia.

night sweats. NIGHT SWEATS.

theres been a rash on my face for over a year that ive thrown EVERYTHING at to try to get rid of, thinking it was anything from lupus to a yeast infection. it turns out its just caused by the pill. it goes away when theres less in my system o_o

my lip was also split for a year. my gums were covered in sores. and the inside of my nose felt like someone put a weed whacker in there and sliced it up. huge scabs. constantly in tiny flecks of pain. miserable but not unbearable, you know?

pussy felt like sandpaper.

i didnt even notice this until later but it also made me fail to derive pleasure from the touch of another person. but like i wanted to. if someone held me or squeezed my hand it felt almost painful. shit made no sense but you just think "this isnt how its supposed to feel? whats wrong with me?". but like that's over. it stopped. it feels good again.

food tasted bad. and i dont mean no flavor i mean BAD. i say this a lot but i cannot understate how fucked it made my palate. its normal again thank god. i have a bag of coffee that tastes different depending on when the last time i took a pill was. i spent the last year complaining about how bad processed food tastes now like all companies decided to make their product bad instead of something being wrong with me specifically. but when adam's cooking started to taste bad i was like "wait. what? thats not possible". lol thanks honey for helping me realize....

this one is really weird: it would cause specific parts of my body to feel stiff. the worst and most chronic part was the small of my lower back, which felt pulled taught so tight it was uncomfortable. then it spread to the fingers of my right hand, causing me to have to stop every few minutes and scrunch my fingers to try to alleviate it. this symptom only returns after i take a dose now. it makes me thrash like a fish trying to get comfortable at night

[meat-huge-pain-endless]

huge vent post feel free to ignore✌️

tw just in case tho for depression, anxiety, suicide/suicidal ideation, death, disordered eating, drug use, dissociation, depersonalization, and derealization

i need someone to come put a straight jacket on me i ruin everything i fucking touch i don’t want to be a bother but im desperate to be known so i spill my guts just for them to get trampled. and i really do let everyone walk all over me. i assume that every other human being on the planet knows better than me about everything and i will tolerate literally an treatment so long as you’re a little bit nice to me sometimes, or even if you just tell me that you are ill probably believe you. my self esteem is so fucking low plus i can’t ever rlly tell what’s true anymore. my memory is so fucking bad like the amount of times a day i forget what im saying mid-sentence and then forget what i had just said and then forget what i was even talking about in the first place is genuinely embarassing. it’s so fucking humiliating actually like i am so out of it all of the time and i can never tell if it’s bc im dissociating or bc im dehydrated or bc i didn’t sleep or bc i haven’t eaten or bc i forgot to take my adhd meds or bc i hit the pen at 9:30am again or bc i DIDNT hit the pen but i have brain fog from smoking the night before and at this point it’s probably all of it all the time like it is so bad. ive never been worse in my life i don’t think. again i wouldn’t rlly know. all my memories feel a million miles away. im alone in my dorm room rn bc my roommate and our other friend went to our other other friend’s dorm to hang out. if i think about it too hard ill probably start crying. i was crying before they were even out the door.

everyone told me college is where you meet “your people.” the friends you have for the rest of your life. why do i have about 3 friends total (as in i actually hang out with them outside of classes/club meetings/school events/etc) and why do none of them feel like they’re actually my friends. oh wait actually i know why that is. it’s because i don’t feel like im real when im at college. that’s how i felt last year (like school year, and it was awful btw, thought it was the worst year of my life but then this semester happened and now im not so sure) but it just occurred to me that im feeling the same way except this time i wasn’t so alarmed by it bc i got used to it. like this is baseline college feeling for me. the worst part of it all is that everything is actually all my fault. like for real not sarcasm. my anxiety is so fucking severe and i didn’t realize it at all until recently when i started having more frequent panic attacks. i cry most days. i hyperventilate way too easily. i walk thru the world just going about my everyday life with the anxiety levels of an animal being hunted for sport. like literally if i accidentally do something wrong in public like the smallest tiniest stupidest mistake like pushing on a pull door or something i get so embarrassed it like so very seriously and genuinely the idea of people thinking that im stupid or laughing at me makes me want to die like seriously kill myself dead and i cannot overstate that im so scared of what people thjnk of me all the time.

oh and did i mention i also literally never stop thinking? overanalyzing everything i do and say and everything everyone else does and says to me and im always worried that my friends hate me or secretly think im an awful person or im thinking about things that they might potentially hate me for later down the line and sometimes i try to preemptively circumvent that by randomly being like “hey if i ever [insert thing im worried might potentially make them not like me anymore] just know that it’s not because [reason i think it might make them potentially not like me]” OH and i also all the time will ask my friends if they think im a bad person which is like so insane of me actually like why the fuck do i do that THIS IS WHAT I MEANT AT THE BEGINNING!!!! PUT ME IN A STRAIGHTJACKET CUT OFF MY GODDAMN HANDS JUST PLEASE DO SOMETHJNG because no matter what i fucking do i always end up crawling to SOMEONE to beg them for reassurance or tell them something that will make them worry about me (sometimes im not even aware im doing that one!) because i just need someone to care. i need someone to care about me or else im not real. (i feel like i only exist contextually but i don’t have time to get into all that right now). but then i get embarrassed for needing something. the fact that i have needs and wants and desires is the most embarrassing thing in the world. asking for what i want and need is the most mortifying torturous experience in the world. i hate being vulnerable.

i want to be cared for without judgement. i want to stop feeling like i am hard to like and even harder to love. i want to stop feeling tired all the time. i want to stop feeling miserable all the time. i want to feel like im real, like i actually exist. i don’t want to die, but i don’t want to live either. i think the only thing about death that still scares me is the fact that i would have to go alone. but the idea of infinite nothingness sounds like a dream. it’s so loud in my head all the time. i just want it all to stop.

[knifetricks]

Were supposed to watch the wicked musical together while he's on break next week and regardless of what happens between us I Need that to still happen if for nothing else to get him act 2 spoilers before the movie comes out next year

-july: we get back into regular contact w each other and get engaged (platonically) for mutual benefit. I'd be moving states to be closer to him

- sept: i have to break off our engagement to move back in w my family that I Do Not get along with for Reasons

- oct/nov: we keep talking regularly and call almost every night. he knows about the problems in my family and keeps the marraige offer open in case I need a way out. I turn it down because I feel compelled to stay with family because of Reasons

- dec: he starts joke flirting with me, I ignore it at first because what do I even do with that. After a little bit I start teasing him back bcus it's not gonna happen anyways and flirtings fun so why not. I'm thinking about dating again anyways so he'd be good practice for it

From oct-dec my sister and my friends keep implying we should date/he has feelings for me but I brush it off. We live in different states and I'm compelled to only see him as a friend since I killed my crush on him from 2023.

- saturday: i get the worst food poisoning of my life while all by myself and he stays on the phone w me for hours to keep me company and try to distract me from how bad I'm feeling. I'm half delirious for most of this call and crying a lot but he stays on the line until it's too late at night for him to stay up any longer becuase we're in different time zones and he's ahead of me. I don't remember much of what we talked about from being sick and in pain but between my crying sessions from pain flirting was definitely happening. We also talked about Wicked

My family comes back while I'm still hurting from fp and i have the worst panic attack of my life which results in my dad accusing me of being coked out and screaming in my face which only makes things worse.

I text him that if the offers still open, i want to marry him and get out of this house. He wakes up and calls me and I explain what just happened. We talk for longer until he has to go back to sleep but says he's gonna text me something after we hang up before he has to go to sleep.

He says that if we get married and I move to be closer to him that he'd actually want to date me if he could. He'd been thinking about it for a while (since August, one month since we started talking to each other again) and had even considered it since 2023 but never said anything because we were coworkers and he thought I wasn't interested anyways.

- Sunday: We call that morning at 5 am my time, Im still reeling a bit from fp and the events of that night, and in my stupid lightheaded space I admit I had a short crush on him when we used to work together (stupid). I tell him it's not a definite no but I want to think about it and I'll give him an answer later today.

I rethink the last few months of talking to him, realize a lot of this is long distance relationship coded behavior between us. I was in denial maybe, just gaslighting the shit out of myself. I don't want us to date and not work out and lose having him as a friend even if it think we could make each other happy.

I tell him we should stay friends for that reason and feel bad about it but he takes it well and understands why i feel this way. We talk it out and manage to get back to the jokey state we normally are in before the end of the night. Theres no harsh feelings and we agree to still get married since it would still be beneficial for us. I still feel bad about it.

- yesterday: Things have been smoothed out with my family and I remember the Reasons why I've felt compelled to stay with them this whole time but ive also agreed to marry him again and don't want to break it off a second time. I don't know if I can move to be with him, but I'll follow through with marrying him if I can visit him at some point in the new year.

Me and him are back to talking how we normally were before, but I see him more romantically in a way that's hard to ignore. I reconsider what it would even look like for us to be dating but it's also only been a day since I rejected him, saying anything now would just be a bitchy move. I don't know what to do now

Man I don't even know how to begin to explain the situation I'm in right now with this guy

[jocelynships]

I’m supposed to be going on a date tonight and I feel bad bc I’m just. Emotionally numb right now.

[poison-note]

Reminder to all my neurodivergent friends out there that recovering from a meltdown/breakdown takes time.

Don't be so hard on yourself.

[boingeaux]

If y'all wanna know how I've been

[chibinightowl]

Waiting is the worst part. Logically, Tim knows his husband is in the best possible place for the care he needs. But he's also behind doors that not even the name Wayne will open, waiting alone in a place that has caused him so much trauma in the past.

Well, perhaps not this particular hospital, but other medical centers and other medical professionals have all contributed to Jason's PTSD.

Tim can't even sit with him, hold his hand, and field questions so his husband doesn't have to. He can't tell the staff to speak up, that Jason is half deaf on one side and has damage on the other thanks to an accident years before. He can't give him a hug when he goes back for his scans and offer a smile when he returns.

What's worse, what's tearing Tim's guts up inside, is the guilt that he didn't listen when Jason first mentioned he wasn't well. Admittedly, they both thought the nausea was a side effect of the panic attack Jason suffered two days before. He'd spent the morning vomiting before a doctor appointment he couldn't put off any more. They chalked it up to anxiety and that it would pass once the visit was over.

The appointment might be over but the nausea remains. Chills and cold sweats have entered into the mix and Jason has spent the last couple of nights tossing restlessly in the living room where the floor is paneled rather than carpeted. It's not unusual for him to lie there--he runs warm to begin with and has said he enjoys a nap where the flooring is cool on his skin.

This morning when Tim woke up, Jason was still there, whimpering and restless. His eyes cracked open when Tim sat down in the armchair with his coffee. "Babe, I don't feel good," he'd said.

"I know," Tim had soothed. "When did you last take your nausea meds?"

They both know what a vicious cycle Jason's brain can get stuck in, how his body reacts to stressors and how in turn he'll fixate when there's nothing actually wrong. Many a virtual doctor visit has been had for exactly that.

But today, tears welled up in Jason's eyes when Tim brushed him aside. "I took them already," he'd said. "Nothing is working. I can't eat. I can't drink. I'm cold and hot and I fucking hurt. I know this shit is all probably in my head but I want to see a doctor and have them tell me that to my face."

Tim remembers all too well how he'd felt like he was humoring his husband when he snagged his tablet to look for the closest urgent care clinic. It's at the clinic where the PA prods Jason's abdomen and he curls up tight against the pressure.

"I think you might have appendicitis," she'd said and sent them on their merry way to the ER.

The whole drive, Tim felt like a damned tool. He's had appendicitis himself, he knows the symptoms, and has even gone through the surgery. How did he miss this?

At a stop light, Jason had placed a clammy hand over Tim's. "Don't beat yourself up over it, babe."

"I should have known..."

"You should have known shit--your symptoms were different."

This is true but is beside the point. "I'll stay with you," he says in a rush. "For as long as I can."

It ends up not being for very long. So here Tim sits in the cafeteria, nursing a cup of coffee and fucking around on his phone. Jason's maybe 500 feet away in a triage staging area, but it feels like miles. He has an IV for fluids and has been given medication for pain and the nausea. He's NPO in case he'll need surgery.

All of these things Tim knows from his own experience earlier in the year. He'd done it all by himself because Jason's PTSD wouldn't allow him to even set foot in the ER. He'd tried, oh had he tried, but Tim told him it would be okay, that he'd keep in touch by text and to keep his phone on him.

Jason might be able to walk in here now but he shouldn't be alone. But the ER is crowded and there are no extra seats in triage for guests. Jason had squeezed Tim's hand when the nurse told him he needed to wait elsewhere.

"Keep your phone on you, babe."

"I won't put it down."

And so he waits, gnawing on his guilt and feeling like the worst person ever.

[angstysebfan]

The Past Can Break You - 2

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: Smut 18+ only please

--

When Bucky made it up to your shared room he slowly and silently opened the door. You were sitting on your bed, your back facing the door, but he could tell you were crying by the shaking of your shoulders. It broke his heart to see you so upset.

He closed the door behind him and walked over to sit next to you. He wrapped his metal arm around your waist and pulled you into his embrace. You then openly sobbed into his chest. Bucky caressed your back and kissed you on the head, allowing you to cry.

When you started to calm down you sighed deeply, sniffed, and said, “Are you going to break up with me now?”

Bucky’s heart completely broke. He put his finger under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “No, baby. Of course not. I love you. I love you so much! Why would you think that?” He asks.

“Because before we started dating you told me about Dot and how much she meant to you. You were going to propose when you got home from the war. Well here is your chance to live the life you wanted with the girl you wanted,” you say as tears again start to leak from your eyes.

“Baby, I’m not the same man I was then. Yes, I still have love for Dot, but I’m so madly in love with you. I promise,” he said, kissing your forehead, nose, and then lips.

“I’m going to help Dot become acclimated to the world now, and help her settle. But I promise I will always be here for you, ok?” He asks.

You nod, feeling slightly better. “I love you,” you say.

“I love you too. I’ve gotta get down to the lab. I promised Dot I would be down there with her. But I won’t be long,” he says before kissing you again and then leaving.

You sit and wait for him, hoping it wouldn’t take too long. But after 4 hours you give up on him and go to sleep. You hope that he will keep his word on still loving you. You don’t want to lose him. You love him too much.

- -

1 month later

Over the last several weeks, you’ve only seen Bucky’s about a handful of times. He’s always off with Dot, helping her learn the ways of today, and helping her deal with her “trauma”. Every time he tries to give you a little time she always calls for him saying how upset she is or that she’s about to have a panic attack. You try and be understanding but at the same time it’s really starting to annoy you.

One of the worst things is that he barely even sleeps with you anymore. This morning you woke up to an empty bed, yet again, and head downstairs for breakfast. When you got down to the common room you heard the sound of Dot’s giggles and saw her sitting on the couch with Bucky, her feet on his lap. At that point you lost your appetite, so you went up to the roof instead.

After an hour you hear the door to the roof open as you’re staring off into the distance. You feel arms wrapped around your waist as a stubble chin rest on your shoulder. You decide to ignore him and continue staring off into the distance and several thoughts past of your mind.

“Was looking for you,” Bucky said as he kissed your shoulder. “Why you up here all alone?”

You sigh, “well I’m used to being alone a lot these days. And I guess I didn’t feel like sitting there watching you and Dot flirt in the common room,“ you say annoyed.

You hear him sigh behind you as he puts his forehead on your shoulder. “I know, and I’m so sorry that I haven’t been around much. I’m just trying to do my best to help her,” He said.

“I promise I’ll try and do better at managing my time so that I can spend more time with my girl,“ he says as he kisses the back of your head and trails kisses all the way down to your neck.

He turns you around in his arms and rests his forehead on yours. Before you know it you are both swaying to no music, until Bucky starts singing your song. You wrap your arms around his neck as you both slow dance to your song as Bucky sings. When he finishes you kiss him passionately.

“Tonight we will have date night. No Dot, no interruptions, just you, me, and that new lingerie you bought a few weeks ago,” he says as he continues to sway you.

You smile widely at the thought of spending a night alone with your boyfriend. “Oh Bucky, that sounds amazing! I’ve missed you so much, and I get what your doing, but it’s hard,” you say.

“I know. I’ve been neglecting you and it ends now. You are my priority, not Dot. And I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Tonight,” he says.

You kiss him in reply.

- -

Later that night, after dinner and another bout of dancing, you come out of the bathroom with your new lingerie set. You stand in the doorway staring at your half naked boyfriend. Bucky’s eyes darken with lust as he starts to stalk towards you like a lion about to pounce.

“You look good enough to eat, baby,” he says huskily. He then pulls you into his arms with a searing kiss.

He leads you to the bed and throws you on it, before jumping on top, connecting your lips again. His hand travels down to your core and he moves your panties to the side, putting pressure on your clit. He starts rubbing at an intensely fast pace, making you lose your breath. Very quickly he pulls your first orgasm from you.

Before you come back to earth you feel your new panties being ripped from you, as well as the bra. Bucky loved to rip your underwear all the time. He kissed his way down your stomach to your wet core and dove in. Your back arched off the bed.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” You moaned as your hand pulled his hair.

He then stuck two metal fingers into you and started pumping. You knew it wouldn’t be long now. You couldn’t stand the amazing sensation of his fingers and tongue. You started to feel the build up of pressure in your belly.

“Bucky! I’m going to cum,” you cry as you again orgasm on his face.

After a moment Bucky kisses his way back up your lips. You taste yourself on his tongue, which makes you wetter, if that’s possible. “You are the best thing I have ever tasted, Doll. Truly exquisite,” he says.

He then pulls off his pants and boxers before lining up with you. He slowly starts to push in, which feels amazing. After a moment he completely bottoms out in you. He kissed you, and just as he is about to thrust, you are both interrupted by FRIDAY.

“Sergeant Barnes, Ms. Jones is requesting to see you sir,” she says.

Bucky groans into your neck, “Tell her I’m busy and we’ll talk in the morning,” he says.

“I’m sorry sir, but she appears to be having a panic attack and having trouble breathing,” FRIDAY says.

“Shit,” Bucky says as he pulls out of you and grabs his sweats. He looks at you guiltily, “I’m sorry. I’ll be back in 10 minutes tops, and then we can finish what we started,” he says before running out the door.

You stare at the door as it closes in shock. He just left you in the middle of sex for his ex. What the hell! You lay there and wait, but after 2 hours you decide to get dressed in sweats and a t-shirt. You take your ruined lingerie and throw it out. You lay back on your bed thinking about how you will have a stern discussion when he comes back.

Before you know it, another 2 hours go by and it’s the middle of the night. You’re more than angry, now you are hurt. You grab your pillow and your blanket and leave your shared room with Bucky, and head to your old room. After locking the door, you inform FRIDAY not to let anyone, especially Bucky in. You climb into bed and allow a few tears before falling asleep.

- -

Bucky woke up the next morning disoriented. When he realized he was still in Dot’s room he panicked. After he finally got Dot to calm down last night he went to leave but Dot begged him to stay until she fell asleep. He must have dozed off too. He quickly got out of the bed and quietly exited the room.

Steve was coming down the hall and saw Bucky’s coming out of Dot’s room. “ why are you in Dot‘s room?” Steve asked.

“She had a panic attack last night and I came to calm her down and fell asleep. Y/N is going to be so pissed at me,” Bucky said.

“Wasn’t last night date night?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, “Yea and Dot interrupted right in the middle of sex. I left Y/N there naked on the bed like a jackass,” Bucky said angrily.

“You left her in the middle of sex to deal for your ex!? Why didn’t you ask me to deal with it?” Steve yelled.

“I don’t know. Dot says she only feel comfortable with me. I’m just trying to help her. But I’m going to lose my girl in the process. I’ll talk to Dot later about it, but things have to change. I can’t keep ignoring my girl,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded, “Yeah, we’ll good luck with talking to her after last night,” he said before slapping Bucky’s shoulder and leaving.

Bucky sighed and went to your shared room, only to see that you weren’t there. He checked the kitchen, common room, roof, gym, and lab but couldn’t find you. The last place he went was to your old bedroom. He found the door locked, which told him he found you.

“FRIDAY, can you please open the door?” He asked the AI.

“I’m sorry Sergeant Barnes. But I was requested by Agent Y/L/N to not let anyone, especially you in,” FRIDAY said.

Bucky’s heart dropped. He really messed up.

- -

Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

A lot happening in this chapter. Bucky being stupid, but at least he is aware. Now can he fix it? will the reader let him? And what else will Dot do? Feedback is appreciated!

Permanent Taglist:  @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookiamtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @shinykoalacat @white-wolf1940 @jessyballet

Story Taglist: @afuckingshituniverse @wintrfld 

[yatiso]

went to my paramore concert last night but before the show i had the worst panic/anxiety attack ive had since like middle/high school and almost didnt go inside after all the work and trouble (not to mention money) i had to get there and cried for an hour until my makeup that i spent two hours on was very obviously cried off and could not enjoy anything until paramore actually played like two hrs after entering the show and only when they played could i find myself calming down but i could barely see her and i didnt get any pictures of anything and nothing that day went as planned at all and i had some fun plans.. i bought a three pack of 35 film so i could take pics while in cinci and didnt get one. why cant i do anything why cant i have one fucking good day/night this was the only big fun thing ive had goin for me for fucking. well basically the whole year and i fucking ruined it

[wheeler-beretta-harwood]

So I’m writing in your inbox because this is easier than making a new comment on each of the fluffy number request you have made so far. Last night I had the worst panic attack I’ve ever had after getting into a huge fight with my husband. so I’m legit laying in bed all day watching cartoons, eating Chinese food, coloring and reading these magical golden nuggets you keep writing.

#30 I have been watching AEW for over a year now and I still don’t know which one of Matt and which one is Nick

#29 This is giving me seriously 😻 for Mox. Of course he has always been hot, but this is making me vibe hard.

#25 See above

#21 Kyle looks like he got hit in the face with a shovel when he was 12 and it never healed all the way, but this made me swoon. “His cheeks turn a soft shade of pink, but now he is confident enough to mouth a silent 'I love you' in your direction”

#1 this is something that I would dream about happening to me in high school 💕

#15 love this. Do you think Kenny is a dog or cat man?

#6 I was grinning like a fool reading this

#7 I always feel so inappropriate crushing on Hook, but I’d totally be down to being the big spoon.

#11 I need to hear OC giggle.

#20 Are you a mind reader? The last day and half Ive been all about Chuck. I watched like two interviews of his and I need more. This just made it a legit crush. And know I have to write a story or something with him. In my mind he can’t draw and the reader just figures out what he meant with time and the caption

#18 your such an amazing writer you have me cheesin over Bobby fish

#5 oooooh Trent 🤤 🙌🏼

#14 Ricky as the bragger makes perfect sense

#24 this is why I’m so ashamed of having a max caster crush because this would 100% be him in real life. No shame at all grinning at that old lady like he just didn’t honk his ladies tits 😂

Your the best and I can’t wait to read more sweet tits!!!

Okay first of all: Are you feeling better yet? I am freaking out right now! Message me if you want to, I am here.

Also: Do I need to fly over and take care of your husband? Because I'll do it! (I've saved enough money for a flight to the US...I just can't get back to Germany then, so you'll be stuck with me.)

And now, trying to make you think nice thoughts (WTF?! Weirdest sentence I've written in....ever.)

#30: Ah, the Bucks Dilemma. I see you're familiar with it. Took me forever to tell them apart. I now know that Matt is the one that annoys me, and Nick is the one I like. Super not helpful for you, though.

#29: at some point in life, I have fallen out of love with Mox. But this little fluff game has put him back in my head. If he's staying there?Time will tell

#21: Poor Kyle!! (I actually laughed harder than I'd like to admit.) I think he has his very own, sweet charm. At least it is working on me.

#15: Kenny loves them all. I know he has a cat, so maybe he's leaning more to cats, but he'd just be as delighted if you brought home a dog one day. Kenny and animals is the kind of thing that warms my cold, dead heart. I actually have a few pics of him cuddling dogs.

#6: Girl, let me tell you. I am not an Adam Cole person. He pisses me off. Which is good for him, I guess, he's a heel after all. But everytime see him with Britt, I think he must be an adorable boyfriend. Which then melts my brain, because guy's a douche...the duality is too much for me to comprehend.

#11: I'd kill to hear OC giggle at this point.

#20: I don't know why, but Chuckie has never crossed my mind. Until now. I feel like writing these little notes would be totally Chuck...but I also don't know much about him. Please, please write a story with him. Make me fall in love 💗

#18: writing for Bobby Fish was actually a tough one. Not that I don't like him, I do. And I wanted to include him in this game, so I'm happy you enjoyed this little bit about him.

#5: Goddamn Trent 🤤 he's creeping his way into my heart.

#24: Max Caster.....that's it. I don't have anything else to say. 💚💜

[sittin-on-the-rooftop]

Would ya look at that! Iss a captain x reader fanfic!

Pairing: Captain X Reader

Genre: Angsty Fluff (Prepare to cry in a good way)

Fandom: Tankmen AN: ignore the misspells its 2am

TW: A lot of swearing. Yea.

Why tf am I doing this

Anyway just stargazing fluff w captain. I fucking hate my life. I didn’t wanna finish the end lol so suck my cliffhanger dick.

You always had a hard time sleeping since you joined the army. You always had so much to think about. Recent encounters with the enemy, philosophical paradoxes, and… the douche that was captain. You’d go to the gym to exercise your thoughts away, but you decided, fuck it. You went up to the roof of the building, gazing up at the sky. One of the only things that stayed the same throughout the chaos that is war. A clear night sky was quite rare! You looked up at the stars, trying to distract yourself. From everything. The pain of war, the meaning of life, and your past struggles with love. You had quite a few encounters with the latter emotion, and none served you well. But here you were again. You were just another run of the mill soldier. How could you even have a chance with goddamn CAPTAIN of all people. All the thoughts were just too much. So much shit was flooding your head at once, because all the thoughts you suppressed just came flooding back to you all at once. So like any normal person, you went as far away from the dorms as possible, and started fucking screaming. About everything. Venting to whatever god was up there, begging it to have mercy. As you took another little break to sob, you heard heavy footsteps up the metal stairs. Fuck. Who’d you piss off this time? You hid behind a duct opening and prayed to Christ that it was Steve. All the other soldiers would fuckin kill your ass, so would Ted, and well, the worst case scenario- you couldn’t even complete the thought as the aforementioned worst case scenario started talking. Whelp, I guess the duct wasn’t the best place to hide. There you were curled up in a ball, ready to get a right scolding for waking up captain himself. But what he said next was enough to reinduce the sorry state you were in before having to hide with bated breath. “Are you ok, kiddo?” Two years ago. The last time you were asked that question, just before you joined this fucking shithole of an army. And here you were. Crying like a baby, as captain tried desperately to check you for injuries. “I heard you screaming like a fucking sissy, you good man?” In a desperate attempt to get you to cheer up, he was just throwing insults in a panic. Steve once told him that ya probably shouldn’t insult an injured person, and told him to first ask this, if there was any distress. “Mental, or physical pain? Do I need to take you to the infirmary? Should I carry you?” Panic is an understatement. You were ofc having a mental breakdown on the floor screaming “I DONT EVEN KNOW ANYMORE!” He didn’t know what to do, so, he asked a simple question. One his mom asked him whenever he cried. “Do you want a hug?” As those words came out of his mouth, you tackled him in a hug, pushing both of you onto the ground. Still trying his best not to upset you more, he started to pat you on the head, trying to calm you down. Feeling completely and utterly useless and weak. Infront of your crush? What luck. You felt utter despair. He’d never like you in this state. At that moment you realized just how sus this was. Yikes. You. Were. Cuddling. With. CAPTAIN! As you continued to drift into despair, Captain, in the most awkward tone you have ever heard, said “uhhhh, y-ya like stargazin?” “Kinda, yea…” You try to look up at the stars, trying to gain control over all your thoughts. The moon. The stars. The Big Dipper. Orion’s Belt. Andromeda. You felt an invisible weight on your back lift gradually, as you mumble out a tired “Thank you so much, sir. For calming my stupid ass down.”

“Well, ya damn near woke everyone up so it was probably best that I calm you down.” “Yea. Sorry for the trouble sir.”

“Wanna talk about it? Or would you like to simply sit in silence.” He took your silence as an affirmation for the latter. Minutes later, you asked John, “how about you, ya like stargazing?-Ah shit crap sorry, shouldn’t be that informal, sir“ “You using me as a pillow is informal enough, but I guess I’ll let it slide since you literally just had a mental breakdown right infront of me. … about stargazing, I never really had time for it. Ya know, army business.” “Want me to show you some constellations?” As you pointed out the stars, all your worries melted away. Having laughs about the constellations he guessed wrong. Time passes fast when you have fun. You checked your watch. 3am. As you laid on his chest, you started feeling quite sleepy. As you fell asleep, you mumbled a near inaudible “I kinda… like you…” Little did you know, Captain was wide awake.

———————————————————

You woke up to someone shaking you violently. Gunshots can be heard in the distance. “HEY MAN, WAKE UP, WE’RE AT FUCKING WAR. FUCKING SURPRISE ATTACKS! THEY'VE SEIGED THE BASE, SOME GOT IN. HEY YOU WITH ME, KIDDO?” You vision starts blurring. You can feel Captain hoist you up onto his shoulder.

“INCASE I DIE, JUST KNOW THAT I FEEL THE SAME WAY. YOUR COURAGE AS A SOLDIER IS NEAR THE SAME SIZE AS MY MAGNUM DONG. IVE SEEN YOU OUT THERE, YA FEARLESS FUCKO! RUN OF THE MILL SOLDIER MY ASS. NOW LETS GO BEFORE WE GET FUCKING BLASTED!”

With each step he took the black spots in your vision spread, until…

[shingia]

Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅

quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3

⤷  atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K

warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)

your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…

…just like your last had been the worst. 

two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.

but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.

which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.

but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.

however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.

« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».

but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.

« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life. 

the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.

« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud. 

‘did i kill them ?’

——

the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.

your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.

which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.

« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».

ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.

and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?

osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.

but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.

you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.

« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.

the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.

« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».

his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.

« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».

he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?

the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.

if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself -  nothing about this made sense.

« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.

« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »

as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.

i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever cheated at a card game?

I probably have as a kid. I’m not one to get all super competitive like I wanna play for fun and how the game is meant to be played.

Tell me what colors you’re wearing right now?

Blue.

Have you ever wandered around drunk with your friend?

Yeah to like Dennys or somewhere close to us to eat. A few pancakes, coffee, or late night Taco Bell run were the best.

Are you longing for the day that you’ll be an adult? (If you’re not already)

I’m almost 33 so I’ve been an adult for awhile, but I definitely wasn’t the kid who was in a rush to grow up and yeah I still don’t want it take it back. Let me be a kid again.

Have you ever felt like your heart actually stopped?

Yes.

Are you a fast runner?

Not anymore but there was a time in what feels like a lifetime ago that I was. I used to have great upper body strength.

What’s something you’ve vowed to never eat?

ive never vowed to not eat something but theres a lot of foods that i dont like haha<<< Same. And foods I have no interest in trying.

Are you good at holding back your laughter if needed?

Yes.

Do any of your friends shamelessly burp or fart in public?

—

When was the last time you had a good cry?

I could use that. I want time alone, but that’s hard to do when you’re in the hospital.

Has anyone ever told you they wanted to marry you?

No.

Have you ever had a “thumb war” with someone? Yeah.

Have you ever been so unfortunate to suffer from a hangover?

Yes. The worst was the one that made me over alcohol completely. It’s been like 10 years now, haven’t missed it at all. Not to say I never had a good time drinking, but honestly my main reason was cause that’s what my friends often liked to do and I chose to join in. I could have done without and been fine but I went along with it. That was on me. And like I said, we had fun. That’s the only time I drank, though, just socially.

If you need a job, will you take whatever you can get?

I guess it would depend on my situation. Ideally of course I wouldn’t want to just settle. I’d try to keep looking and figure out options.

Time goes by faster as you get older, don’t you find?

Yes.

Have you ever had a panic attack?

We’re well acquainted.

Are you deathly allergic to anything?

No.

Have you ever had a mouse in your house?

Gahhh, yes.

Do you know what you want for your dream house?

I just know I want a beach house.

Have you ever seen the movie the Notebook?

Nope.

If you download torrents, what torrent program do you use?

i dont download torrents anymore <<< Me either. It’s been several years now.

If you go to school, will this year be different?

I’ve been done with school since 2015.

Do you know anyone who DOESN’T have an ex?

Probably.

Are you able to count to ten in another language?

Yes, in Spanish.

Is there something you know you have to do, but haven’t done it yet?

I’ve put off too many things.

Is anyone you know really religious?

Yes.

Can you sing?

Nope.

Have you ever read “Gone With the Wind”?

No.

Are your eyebrows naturally thick?

Yes.

Have you ever attempted to cut your own hair?

I used to cut my bangs but that’s it.

Has speaking in front of people ever made you sick?

I always got the worst anxiety and dreaded every presentation. No matter how many times I did then throughout school it didn’t get easier.

Have you ever wanted to tell someone how you felt, but never did?

Oh, definitely. That was usually the case.

What was the last movie that made you teary-eyed?

I don’t recall at the moment.

Do you check your email daily?

Yes.

Have you ever breathed in helium?

No, I’ve always been to scared to try lol.

Do you try to be confident and positive about your future?

:/

When was the last time you felt disappointed in yourself?

I’ve felt that way for a long time, but especially now. I had been so incredibly stupid and it cost me a lot.

Have you ever owned a garden?

No.

Who was the last person to text you?

My mom.

Have you had two friends that absolutely hated each other?

Yes.

Do you ever find yourself trying to be the referee amongst your friends?

Yes.

Has a laptop ever burned your legs?

Actually, yes. I’m paralyzed waist down so I don’t feel my legs and I’ve made some mistakes of placing things not knowing it was too hot. I have to be really conscious of that.

Do you know anyone who has a scar through their eyebrow?

My mom does.

Who was the last person to flip you off?

*shrug *

Are you doing anything the day after tomorrow?

Same as everyday.

Anyone’s birthday coming up soon?

Mine at the end of the month.

Would you ever wear fake eyelashes?

I have.

Do you make the effort to smile at people?

No :x

Are you good at following directions?

I think so?

Have you ever just screamed really loud in an attempt to feel better?

Tempting at times. I’m a writer, though. I need to vent and ramble and do so a lot better in the written form.

Are you in any way, still a child at heart?

Yes.

Quality triumphs over quantity, correct?

I think so.

Have you ever danced when there was no music playing?

Yeah.

Do you have someone that you can just act a fool with and not care?

Around my family.

From where you’re sitting, can you touch a wall?

No.

Have you received a text today that made you go “wtf”?

No.

When at a restaurant, do you put your napkin on your lap?

No.

Are you even feeling the least bit tired?

I’m quite tired, but what’s new?

Is there currently any caffeine or alcohol in your system?

I wish I had caffeine. I miss coffee so much.

Do you prefer electric or manual pencil sharpeners?

I don’t care.

Are your biceps at all noticeable?

I have no muscle tone anymore.

Have you ever seen a walrus?

Yeah, many times.

When it comes to dropping food, do you believe in the 10 second rule?

I don’t follow any second rule if it falls on the ground I’m done.

If given the opportunity, would you ride on a camel?

No.

Do you believe that cellphones actually do cause cancer?

It says that on a lot of things. You’ll see the sign about cancer causing chemicals at various places, too.

When people you know cry, does it make you feel like crying too?

Yes, I feel horrible. It hurts me to see others hurt.

Were you single last Valentine’s Day?

Yeah, and every Valentine’s Day.

Do you tend to jump to conclusions?

Unfortunately.

Are you good at remembering your friends’ birthdays?

Yeah.

Is there something you need to do, that you’re trying to avoid doing?

Yes, but I can’t. I’ll have to do it.

[jungkookiebus]

Hellblazer 2.5 | jjk

Genre: demon!au Pairing: demon!Jungkook x FemConstantine!reader Word Count: 2.6k Rating: PG Summary: Now that the true identity of the new Prince of Hell has been revealed to you, you are left back on Earth, wandering aimlessly through life hungry for another taste of him while being repulsed by his memory. You find your health failing and in one last attempt for help, you drag yourself to the Vatican only to find yourself falling deeper into the darkness surrounding you. Ever so slowly, you’re slipping towards a death you didn’t think would come so soon.  Author’s Note: I hope you guys still find this interesting. I guess this can be seen as “filler” to progress their relationship, but I find it really starts to expose true feelings here. More to come! 

Sluggish. Languorous. Torpid. Stagnant. Those four words and more were how you would describe your life right now. It had been three months since your last encounter with him. You had woken up in your bed just as before; sore and almost lifeless. Before, he haunted your dreams. Now, he was all you wanted and your worst nightmare. You felt pushed and pulled in two directions.

Lost.

Utterly lost.

You were seeing him more and more, standing under the massive altar in the Basilica, sitting at the same table at the coffee shop, just around the corner in the bookstore, and basking in the sun at Trevi Fountain. The few people you knew, because you didn’t have any friends, were noticing your declining health. You became withdrawn and idle. Just living each day, sometimes eating, getting out of bed when needed, and spending less time outdoors as the months rolled on.

Even the Pope came to see you, worried about your health. At first, you felt good knowing someone cared but then you reminded yourself he only liked you for information. His visit didn’t go quite as he had planned when the thought dawned on you and you cursed at him, demanding he get the fuck out of your house.

You had never planned on staying in Rome this long. Yes, it was the hub of your line of work, but you didn’t want to be here, yet you felt tied. You felt as if you left then you’d never see him again, but then again, you didn’t want to see him. Not really.

You were starving, but not for food. If you had a soul it would probably yearn. This was a different kind of pain; something deeply rooted into your heart. Your body was lacking something, and you weren’t sure what.

When you were ready to throw yourself off the nearest cliff, you trudged reluctantly in the direction of the Vatican. Your limbs felt like they were filled with sand. People gave you strange looks as they passed. You knew you hadn’t brushed your hair in a hot second nor had you really been concerned about your personal well-being either. The closer you got, the worse you felt. You found yourself stopping and leaning against a wall more than once trying to catch your breath. It felt as if you had been running when you could barely walk. By the time you got to the Vatican Obelisk, you were stumbling, struggling to stay upright. A Swiss guard recognized you despite your unkempt appearance and rushed over immediately, calling out for assistance.

The bright summer sun, a flash of pink, and what you had thought was him were the last things you saw before you succumbed to that falling feeling. Peace. Finally, you were able to rest.

When you awoke again, your limbs were just as heavy if not heavier. You heard the faint beep of a machine and the whir of air conditioning, but beyond that was silent. Your eyelids felt as if they had weights on them as you struggled to open them. Finally, you were able to peer into the semi-darkness. Blinking a few times, you slowly scanned the room. It was very nicely decorated, with a fireplace, and your guess was confirmed when you saw the framed picture of the Virgin Mary. An IV stand was next to you and you followed the tube of fluids to your arm. Wiggling your fingers a little, you made sure you weren’t paralyzed for some reason. As if by divine intervention, a nurse came scooting in backwards with a cart. You watched as she blissfully hummed and then turned towards you, jumping back in surprise as you looked at her.

“Oh, dear!” she exclaimed, holding her hand over her heart. She moved closer to the bed, first looking at the machines, and then back at you. “Hey, are you okay?”

You nodded. Your throat was so dry you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything.

“Let me get you some water!”

She turned away again and to a pitcher that was sitting on a table, filled a glass of water, and made her way back to you. She held the glass to your lips as she held a cloth under your chin. You drank gratefully and sighed as the cool water soothed your throat.

“What happened?” you finally asked once you were able to speak properly.

“The guards saw you stumbling around outside. You collapsed right in a crowd of people!” She threw her hands up excitedly as she recounted the story to you. The Pope had insisted you stay in the ”house of the Lord” in case what was happening to you was “demonic” in nature.

He knew better.

“How long?”

“Oh, let’s see,” she paused. “About a week and a few days now.”

No wonder you felt as if your muscles hadn’t been used in a million years. You still felt just as bad, if not worse than before. Before you knew it, you were slipping slowly. You wanted to stay awake, you feared falling asleep again, but your body was giving up. Slowly, darkness overtook you.

When you awoke again, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You half expected a paralysis demon to be perched atop you when you were finally able to open your eyes.

The room you were in was the same, but this time there were more machines. You looked down to see that your hair had grown a considerable amount. Panic washed through your body and you heard the rapid beat of the machine as your heart sped. A small alarm sounded as your blood pressure rose. You were being thrown headlong into a full blown panic attack. The same nurse as before came rushing into the room and was at your side, checking the readout on the machine, and then reached into a small refrigerator for a glass bottle. She pulled the cap off a syringe, pulled the liquid into it, and then pushed it into your IV line. Your body immediately relaxed. She held her hand on your forehead as she grabbed her stethoscope. After she determined that you were okay, she laid a hand over yours.

“He wants to talk to you. I’ll be right back.”

What? You had just woken up after god knows how long and she’s worried about someone wanting to talk to you? You were so thirsty.

The Pope came rushing through the door, dressed casually, and looking both distressed and surprised.

“____!” he exclaimed as he rushed to your bedside. “It’s been months.”

Months? Surely…not?

He turned his head to where you couldn’t see his face, but you saw the look of surprise on the nurse’s face as she nodded and then left the room. He turned back to you; concern written in his features.

“____,” he began again, as he pulled a chair to your bedside. “When did you meet him?”

Your brows knitted. You had already told him when you met the new Prince of Hell.

“The Archangel. God’s general.”

Your blood ran cold. How did he know?

“You have the sigil,” he said reaching out just a little, “behind your ear.”

For fuck’s sake. You were getting peed on by everybody in Hell. You wet your lips a little. Or tried to. Realizing that your mouth was probably dryer dirt, he grabbed the pitcher. Funny, one of your last memories was almost this exact same situation months ago. Once again, you were fumbling with your voice, having not used it for some time. He sat patiently as your mouth moved robotically. You were frustrated that you couldn’t just spit it out and you felt helpless as you lay there with your overly heavy limbs.

“He fell,” you finally croaked.

“What?” He didn’t believe you.

“The demons. In Rome.”

You saw him piecing things together with your minimal words. He had warned you that things were happening in Rome.

“You mean…,” he trailed off in disbelief.

“War.”

It wasn’t a secret that there was a war in Heaven before when Lucifer fell. You had met a few demons that fell with him, recounting the day in vivid detail to you. Now there was going to be another one. God’s greatest ally had betrayed him.

“But then…” He glanced towards the spot behind your ear. “Those are meant for protection.”

You half shrugged. You weren’t about to admit to him what had happened…twice.

“Get your rest, _____.” He patted the back of your hand, stood, and left from the room without so much as a backwards glance.

The Pope stood before the statue of the Archangel taking down Lucifer with his golden spear. His heart was tight in his chest as he prayed.

“Dear God,” he was at a loss for words as he gazed above him. His voice echoed in the cavernous expanse.

A low, menacing laugh filled the space as soon as his voice died out. The darkness suppressed around him and fear filled his heart. He clutched to the rosary in his hand as he turned around. The laugh seemed to be coming from every direction, bouncing off the walls, and doubling back in on itself. This type of darkness was one that he felt deep inside of him.

“There’s no point in that,” he heard whispered amongst the laughs that were slowly dying out.

Out of the darkness and through the pews of one of the service areas walked a man, dressed darkly, and even darker than the murkiness around him. The candles that had been lit on the altar went out one by one. A heat filled the basilica that had him sweating under his night robes. A smell so pungent that he recoiled filled his nose and it was soon replaced by the sickly sweet smell of roses.

He emerged into the dimly lit expanse of the area before the main altar and he was able to see his glowing eyes and pale skin contrasting against his black suit. His hands were clasped behind him as he walked slowly. His footsteps didn’t make a sound. His smile was malevolent. As he approached closer and closer, he began to faintly smell burnt wood. By the time he was within feet of him, it was as if someone had snuffed out the fire in a fireplace. The smoky smell filled the area and assaulted his senses. A usually comforting scent was now going to be reminiscent of this new fear he felt.

“Where is she?” he asked, leaning in close.

He saw the sigil on his lapel as it caught the light.

“A-are you…?” he stammered.

“You know exactly who I am. Now, answer my question, Your Holiness.”

He stared into his dark eyes and saw nothing there. Only emptiness.

“I’m not giving her to you.” He held onto his rosary tighter as he willed himself to be brave in the face of evil.

His smile spread, but then suddenly turned down at the corners. He could see where he was once beautiful, but now he was beautiful in a terrible way.

“If you want her to live, you will.”

He was shaking as he held out the hand that clutched the rosary. The Prince looked down at it in disgust before speaking again.

“Your trinkets won’t do anything to me.”

“Why do you want her?”

“She belongs to me.”

“Your sigil is meant to protect. What are you doing to her?”

He sighed as he brought his hands in front of him, intertwining his fingers and holding them to his lips. The Pope saw the tattoos that you had mentioned, and it further confirmed his fears.

“The real question is, what are you doing to her?”

He suddenly became defensive in the face of the Prince.

“I have been protecting her and keeping her alive for these last few months.”

“Have you, though?”

“Quit talking in circles, demon!” He was red faced now, utterly angry. He was angry that a Prince of Hell was here on hallowed ground and he was angry that he seemed to think he had some claim over you.

“This space you feel like you’ve created for her to heal is killing her,” he said simply.

You had no soul. Heaven couldn’t protect you and now that it was weaker, they would be no closer to doing so.

“The sigil…”

“She’s dying on holy ground. If I take her, she won’t.”

The Pope was torn. What he said made sense, but what if he were lying? He had no reason to tell the truth. But why would he want you?

He slowly removed the brooch from his lapel and suspended it in the air between them, but the Pope refused to reach out and take it.

“I promise you protection. On my word.”

“I don’t make deals with devils,” he said snidely.

“It’s in your best interest to do that now. There’s going to be a war soon and Earth will suffer just as many consequences. You’ll want to find yourself on the right side.”

The Pope walked briskly down the carpeted hallway with the Prince walking closely behind. None of the guards were around as they turned corners and he knew it was his doing. When they reached the door to your room, he looked back at him tentatively. He seemed eager for him to open the door. He pushed it open, stepping inside, and to the side. He watched closely as he crossed the room and to your bedside. You were asleep, laid back amongst the pillows, and looking as frail and drawn as ever.

“How could you let this go on for this long?” he asked as he undid the IV at your arm.

The Pope was frozen to the spot as he watched him quickly detach you from any and all machines, alarms going off left and right. The nurse came running down the hall in her robe. He held out his arm in front of her as she crossed the threshold and froze to watch the scene in front of her.

He was lifting you from the bed gingerly. You had lost so much weight that you were very easy to carry. He turned with you in his arms, curled against his chest, and the Pope saw a shadow of who he once was. His expression was soft, yet worried, giving him a glance at the Archangel he used to pray to.

“You have my protection,” he said before seeming to disappear into thin air. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving the Pope and nurse dumbfounded.

The next time you awoke, you felt lighter. Your breathing came easier and your mouth didn’t feel as if it were on fire. The pain in your head was starting to subside and overall, you felt as if you might survive whatever was wrong with you. You moved your fingers over the sheets beneath you and felt an all too familiar silkiness. Your heart raced with both fear and some unfound excitement. Slowly, you opened your eyes and you were met with the same grey stillness of the bedroom that haunted your dreams. You were afraid to move but you desperately needed to see if you imagined the presence behind you. You quietly and gently as possible turned your head.

He looked so peaceful.

Fast asleep, mouth slightly agape, he laid beside you, hand rested on the pillow. He had saved your life, but that was only because he had marked you. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it was what you wanted all along.

[the-darkfactory]

A SICK GIRL.

This text was written and published in November 2018. This is the first time I translate to English. Hope it reaches those who need to read it most. Much love.

I was born dying. I was dragged from my mom's belly straight to the intensive care unit and spent a month in the incubator until I could breathe without machines. I was also born whole and no one ever told me that, one day, my mind was going to split in two.

I was very little when I first felt strange. Very strange. I was already 5’6 feet tall when I started my last year in primary school, finding clothes that fit me was torture. However, for my graduation party, I found a purple dress that seemed perfect. When I tried it on, under that all-showing light in the changing room, I felt fat. That was the first time I was disgusted by my reflection.

After a summer tinged with school farewell melodrama, I started high school. I spent most of my free time studying, listening to the Backstreet Boys or reading Harry Potter. At the end of the first semester, I got the best grades in my class. While everyone at home was happily celebrating, I made a pact with a friend: I was going to stop eating.

My thinness brought about new habits and what I remember the most is how cold I was: during school recess, my friends would go out to play and I would stay in the classroom wearing every sweatshirt I could find. It would take me forty-five minutes to eat an apple and before going to sleep, I would go over each food item I’ve had in the day and calculate the calories. I also learned that I had to get up slowly to avoid the dizziness that turned my room into a washing machine.

One day my family and I went to one of those “all you can eat” restaurants. After two sandwiches and a bit of cake, I started crying because I had an intense stomach ache, but it was all a premeditated drama I staged so they wouldn't make me have dinner. Two days later, my mom dragged me to a clinic. I had to take off my clothes and stand on an ice-cold scale. "You weigh 39 kilos," the doctor announced. "You're anorexic."

I was taken to a hospital that had a team specializing in treating people like me. We waited for hours until my name was called and I was met by an anti-anorexic army: a nutritionist, a clinical doctor, a psychiatrist, a psychologist and others I never understood who they were. They made my parents leave and Anorexia and I were interrogated. They asked us if we vomited, if we had thought about committing suicide and if we had ever been abused. When we talked about my parents' divorce, we burst into tears. Then they faced the back of two chairs and asked us to separate them according to how far apart we felt they had to be from each other in order for us to fit between them. We did it and passed the test: we knew we were tiny. The doctors said I was on the verge of hospitalization. I was a sick girl.

Once our relationship was made official, we went to the hospital three times a week. Long waiting, weighing, talking. We were forbidden to be physically active and we had to write down how much of what we ate a day. Mom sometimes comforted us and sometimes shouted at us. One night she yelled a lot because we had only had a piece of fruit for dinner, but how could I explain to her that eating made Anorexia hurt and so it hurt me too? We were sent to a psychologist we stared at in silence for an hour. We finished our junior year with straight As, enslaved at home and undernourished.

Anorexia and I did everything together. I would start a sentence and she would finish it. When I moved my hand to grab something, she was the one who forced my fingers closed, and if something bothered her, I did whatever was necessary to calm her down. One afternoon, we went cycling with our friends and we were carried on the handlebars so we wouldn't move. Everything was going beautifully until a sudden stop made us fall face first to the ground. We got up spitting teeth and blood. We broke our four incisors, skin came off our lips and we split the right side of our face. That night before showering, I stared at our skeletal, beaten up reflection. Days shy of my fourteenth birthday, I cried my heart out asking Anorexia what the fuck had she done.

I wanted her to go away. The only thing I could do to get her to leave was eat. Sometimes she won, sometimes I won. Once, she lost 100 grams and I went home after the medical check up feeling a killer urge. Another day, I gained 200 and that night she didn’t let me sleep. It was war. If Anorexia told me to hide food, I ran off to snack with my brother. If she hated sandwiches, I'd buy a dozen of my favorites. For every complaint of hers, a food bite of mine, and so, bite by bite, I filled her mouth with silence until I could no longer hear her speak.

I started my second year of high school with a seemingly healthy weight. I went to the hospital once a week. Eventually, I was told I could go once a fortnight, once every twenty-one days and, somehow, I stopped going altogether. I don’t remember how or when that decision was made. The only thing I do know is that during all that time I ate almost nothing from Monday to Friday and a lot from Saturday to Sunday in order to weigh more at the Monday check-ups. The thing was that once the pact between Anorexia and I had been made, she would try and talk to me every day. People didn't notice but I knew she was still there. We were still the best students, we lifted weights after eating a salad and we never got our periods. We were stopped on the streets to be offered jobs at modeling agencies and we realized that our bond had the aesthetic approval of society. I forgave her for all she had done and gave her, again, space in my body to grow.

When we turned seventeen, Anorexia changed. She screamed at me and didn't feel like doing anything. We quit the gym, gained weight and developed insomnia. One drunken night, we came home and went straight to the kitchen. We opened the fridge and devoured, on our knees, all the leftovers from dinner. We then shoved our fingers down our throats. That's how Bulimia arrived.

Bulimia was fiercely hungry. My cheeks, arms, and chin grew like a fatty bubble. I was disgusted by my body and I got dressed in the dark. I stopped studying, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. At prom I had two drinks and passed out. I woke up in hospital with an IV in my arm and my worried mother by my side. I didn't know how to explain that for weeks and in order to be skinny that night, everything I ate, Bulimia vomited.

I wanted to feel normal. I was very weak and exhausted, but Bulimia was young and confident. She never shut up, she would even eat raw polenta in spoonfuls and vomit it all, leaving me tired and confused lying in my bed. Her arrival was abrupt because Anorexia had already drilled holes in my head: they were different versions of the same thing and a pattern of destructive habits that infected everything. They turned my life into a living hell.

We vomited so much that we spent hours burying our heads in the toilet seat and we would only stop when we saw the first thing we had eaten leaving our body. We did it five, six times a day. We used every bathroom we set foot in. The ones at school, my friends' houses, restaurants, my grandmother's, my dad's. I developed arrhythmia and thought that Bulimia was going to get me killed. Some nights, while dreaming that I was violently bingeing, I would wake up desperate and ready to stick my fingers in my mouth until I realized that, that one time, the binge had been a dream. That feeling of “fake need to vomit” was the closest thing to peace I felt during those times.

Bulimia didn't want me around anyone. She made me think I was crazy and that I would never be able to be separated from her. I stayed away from my friends. I stopped having dinner with my family and we would lock ourselves up in my room. Mom would bring me trays of food that Bulimia kept in plastic bags. I once found a rotten chicken inside the closet. It was full of maggots. We were almost found out when my brother saw a glass of vomit in the bathroom that we had forgotten to flush down the toilet. He brought it to me and said, "Is this yours?" while retching. We nodded and took it away from him as if it had been a misplaced shoe.

I don't know how I managed to free myself from anorexia and bulimia, but for the last three years I have hardly felt their presence. Sometimes I wonder if I started traveling around the world to confuse them and leave them stranded in another part of the planet. Maybe they got bored of my criticism and couldn't stand my will to not share my body with them. One thing I’m sure of is that love played a major part. It was crucial to understand that I did not choose to live with them and that asking a person with compulsive thoughts to stop having them is like asking a paralytic to simply stand up and walk.

Anorexia and bulimia stole my time and energy. I gave them my will to live, my projects and motivations. In return, they gave me anxiety, panic attacks, depression and suicidal thoughts. They still whisper to me every now and then but I can ignore them. It’s not always easy. I don’t know, this coexistence has been very strange but they definitely don’t own me anymore. Looking for the reasons I developed this disorder is complex. I know that I was affected by the pressure I felt from a very young age to be perfect, the weirdness that arose in my family dynamics after the divorce and feeling that for society I was worth more as a woman the skinnier I was. The final trigger must have been a genetic predisposition and a bit of mystery: there is still a lot that science doesn't know about all this. Once my disease was established, it became a vicious, out-of-control cycle that was perpetuated by the worst evil of all: silence. I felt a deep shame, thought it was my fault and that, hence, I deserved what was happening to me. That made me sicker and I vowed to hide it, which was possible because these disorders are invisible: they lock themselves inside bodies of all types, gender, background, shape and turn them into slaves.

When I stopped vomiting and regained control of my hands, I wrote this. It feels weird. After seventeen years of being in a symbiotic relationship, there is something I still don't understand: if I am no longer a sick girl, then who am I?